Spy of Sauron
by Irael
Summary: Ignore the melodramatic title. This is a tale of a servant of Sauron bid to bring him back his ring. Flames are as welcome as reviews.
1. One

Disclaimer: Let's see.... Nothing in this fic is mine except Runya, and I wish she wasn't.

**-Prologue-**

Sauron blinked. It wasn't something he normally did. Perhaps it was because he didn't have an eyelid for his one firey eye. However, if he had an eyelid, he would have blinked rapidly in confusion.

For time itself in Middle Earth was changing at odd intervals, and Sauron found himself alive even though he remembered clearly plummeting to the dark ground below Barad Dur in his own doom. The Hobbit had destroyed the one Ring.... Hadn't he?

Not anymore! stated the author in a hasty author's note. She also added that the Fellowship had just been broken, and that this story would begin at Helm's Deep.

Sauron's shoulders drooped in confusion, and the dark lord jumped. With feet! He looked down and realized that not only did he had a body, but also that he had depth perception once again. That could only mean one thing. He had two eyes once again. Sauron repressed the urge to jump for glee.

Sauron strode down from the top of the dark tower on more a feeling of duty than of whim. His new feet took him down to a dungeon he hadn't even been aware of before. Sauron frowned behind his helmed face. He thought he knew every passageway in Barad Dur. Suddenly his perplexed mind was wiped of questions and doubt when he opened the door and saw the figure before him.

She stood on a pedestal, like a statue, but that she was alive, Sauron could be sure. Her hands were bound above her head, and her large golden eyes fluttered open at his entrance. A small smile played on her ruby red lips, and she bowed her delicately pointed face down in reverance.

"I've kept 'er 'ere for the longes' time, master," began a voice that made Sauron jump. An orc had suddenly appeared from nowhere, and was watching the young woman with a sense of pride.

"Excellent," Sauron found himself saying, even though he loathed that specific adjective. The orc nodded, continuing in his curiously Cockney accent, "I've jus' been waitin' for you to need 'er. 'Ave you got a need of 'er?"

Sauron nodded, to his surprise, and replied, "Yes. Untie her and dress her in the finest that Mordor has to offer."

For a split second all his bafflement came back at the absurdity of what he had just uttered. Finest Mordor had to offer? Why, Sauron was wearing the best of the Shadow Land. The second best would indeed be rags and leathery armor. Sauron almost laughed at his words, but then his mind was wiped blank again, and he felt himself under the control of a mysterious source.

"She will be my spy," he muttered to himself, "and bring me back my Ring."

**-One- **

"Boromir!" Aragorn called, and stopped in his tracks, for the young son of the steward had actually appeared.

"You died!" Aragorn cried, hardly believing his eyes that were still beholding the handsome man that was certainly not dead.

"I know!" Boromir exclaimed, scratching his head. Almost seamlessly, his puzzled face morphed to nonchalance.

"Nay, my good friend," said a voice that Boromir realized was his own, "I merely fainted from blood loss, but the boat took me down Rauros to Osgiliath, where Faramir helped me regain my strength. I have returned to help your cause."

"I know!" Boromir exclaimed, scratching his head. Almost seamlessly, his puzzled face morphed to nonchalance.

"Nay, my good friend," said a voice that Boromir realized was his own, "I merely fainted from blood loss, but the boat took me down Rauros to Osgiliath, where Faramir helped me regain my strength. I have returned to help your cause."

Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but instead said, "Help me distribute these swords to the men of Rohan."

The two men did exactly that. Be it the laziness of the author or the smallness of Rohan, Aragorn and Boromir did this task quite swiftly.

"Many of these men have seen too many winters," informed a new voice. Aragorn turned to see Legolas. The Elf's eyes widened momentarily when he caught sight of Boromir, but quickly all question was stolen from his face, and he looked around, finishing his line of despair to Aragorn in Elfin. Whatever that language was.

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn cried in English, then paused. English? What was that? All the men in the room stared at him, as did Legolas. The men of Rohan, that all seemed to fit in one room, were more confused then anyone else. They had just heard a heated argument in Elfin and English, after all.

The sound of trumpets sounded in the distance and Aragorn scurried to the edge of the battlements, which had suddenly appeared conveniently near by.

A legion of Elves had appeared at the gates, all garbed in midnight black cloaks save the one in the front, who was wearing a long trailing cloak of gold and dark red.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir raced the doors to open them, and Gimli would have too, if the author liked Dwarves. Since the author found Gimli unrefined and ugly, he seemed to have slipped between the lines. Come to think of it, all the woman the author deemed a threat to her love interests were also conspicuously scarce.

Boromir heaved the great door open, a feat no ordinary man could have achieved. The figure dressed in red and gold strode through the door impatiently, and dramatically threw off the hood, which must have been one of those button on hoods.

All the men of Rohan that had appeared with perfect timing gasped at the woman who now stood before them. Boromir found his heart almost stop at the sight of such lovlieness.

She was unusually tall, even for an Elf. She had dark red-orange tear drop earrings hanging from the lobes of her pointed ears, and her jet black hair shined in the flickering light of the sconces. Her hair hung down passed her thighs so if she sat she could sit on it, if she wanted to. She had large amber and gold eyes that flashed mysteriously as she looked at the men. Her dress was a red darker than her cloak and trimmed in black and gold, and the sleeves clung tightly halfway down her arms, and then billowed out with a thin orange material passed her tapering fingertips. Around her neck hung a necklace that was made of a thin black chain, but the pendant lay hiding below the low cut neck of her dress.

"I have come to honor the alliance that once existed between men and Elves." She said in a clear voice, like a river tripping over the obsidian black rocks and rich earth winding its way to the sea in hopes of finding Valinor.

"Your aid is greatly appreciated," Aragorn thanked, bowing lowly to the maiden, "may I have the honor or knowing your name?"

"Runya," the beautiful woman answered silkily, "Runya Rinuialrilwen."

Boromir took her hand, noting the slender gold ring embracing her middle finger that had the small insignia of a flaming eye, and kissed the back of her hand, suspicion never entering his mind.


	2. Two

Author's Apology: Sorry it took so long for this chapter. School has been… evil, to say the least.

**-Two-**

Darkness fell over Helm's Deep quite rapidly, as if the author was in a hurry to get to all the action. Runya Rinuialrilwen stood on the battlements, letting the wind toss her onyx black hair streaked with tinges of gold back in forth in front of her face as her large glittering eyes beheld the movement around her. The men were preparing for battle in the least descriptive way; swinging their swords at one another, and stretching.

"Lady Rinuialrilwen?" Called a voice. Runya turned her piercing gaze to Boromir, who joined her.

"You may call me Runya," she requested. Boromir sighed with relief, and tried to remember what he was going to say. Something about battle that was sure to spur her anger... What was it? He finally remembered, and said bluntly, "You can't fight this battle."

Runya spun around and glared at him, her golden eyes turning to burnished ruby, "How dare you tell me I cannot fight! I brought aid to your pathetic army and you think you can deny me of such? Truly you are an arrogant and selfish mortal."

Boromir frowned, wondering what her grounds were for calling him selfish. His inner consciousness began to writhe in pain as he found himself uttering the next words.

"Runya, you are even more beautiful when you are angry."

The Elf woman drew herself up to her impressive slender height, her coral lips now pouting with practiced skill.

"I will engage in combat this evening, and you have no authority over me." She declared, drawing her sword that the author had forgotten to mention in chapter one.

Boromir looked interestedly at the sword, which was made of a black metal with a golden hilt. Rubies and yellow diamonds were inlaid on the handle in such a way it looked as if it were more for aesthetics than practicality.

"I will fight." Runya hissed, aiming the sword point at Boromir's chest. A convulsive fear seized him and he jumped away. He couldn't help this feeling of amiration and love welling up within him for this red-clad Elf.

Glancing at her once last time, he realized he was smiling, and, to his lasting disgust, couldn't smother the grin. Without another word, he departed.

Runya continued her gazing, and then felt a sudden heat grow near her heart. Making sure no one was around, she withdrew the necklace and held the pendant at eye level. It was made of black iron in the shape of an eye, with a curious faceted black stone in the middle framed with small rubies creating the iris and pupil.

The black stone in the middle, which was actually a small palantir, began to glow orange, and Runya heard a voice calling her.

"Runya, unlock the front gate so my army may enter" it commanded. A frown passed over Runya's crimson lips as she realized who was commanding her. It was not her creator, Sauron, but his servant, Saruman.

Nevertheless, she had been instructed to follow his orders also, so she silently stole down to the front gates and heaved the heavy bar that spanned it away, panting only slightly from the effort.

"What are you doing?" demanded Aragorn from behind her. If Aragorn was shocked at her ability to lift a nearly thousand pound block of solid wood, he failed to show it.

"I wanted to go for a walk. Would you like to join me?" She asked silkily, letting her voice calm his suspicions.

Aragorn consented, and opened the doors with no hesitations. Runya slipped her fair hand into his and the two walked down the bridge.

"What do you hide around your neck, lovely maiden?" Aragorn asked, nearly choking on his own words. Runya smiled secretively, and said nothing.

"Do you love me, my lord?" She inquired suddenly.

Every ounce of logic and love for Arwen screamed in frustration as his mouth answered, "You know I do, sweet lady."

"Will you talk sense into Lord Boromir, then?"

"What must I tell him?"

"That I am a warrior, and long for combat." Runya said playing with a strand of her dark hair. Her golden eyes never left Aragorn's face as it changed from captive love to concern.

"Nay, my darling, I wish you would stay in the caves with the woman. You might die!" Aragorn briefly wondered why he even cared, but suddenly his actions were seized once again.

"You men are all the same!" Runya screamed her amber eyes shifting again to blood red, and storming back up to the gates.

For one blissful second Aragorn found control of his limbs and made all haste to pummel the ever-loving crap out of Runya-

_No, no, no_, and arrogant voice resounded in his head, and Aragorn's arms snapped back to his sides, and he found his feet chasing after Runya, and his mouth opening to say, "But wait my darling! Fight by my side tonight, I beg of thee!"

With a triumphant smile curling around her dark lips, Runya gave a soft laugh, and outstretched her slender porcelain-white hand to take Aragorn's.

"I will destroy your proud soul," she whispered to herself dramatically, "and make you plead for mercy before the end."


	3. Three

**-Three-**

Fourth Day

I still have not completely waken yet. It has been four sunsets since my master, Lord Sauron, first made me conscious of my surroundings, and this dreadful weight of sleep hangs around me heavier than my vibrant cloak.

I shall arrive at Helm's Deep by tomorrow afternoon. It will be no difficulty weakening their pathetic forces I have been sent to destroy. Those wretched humans will never anticipate an attack from so stunning and lovely a being. I am, of course, referring to myself.

Fifth Day

I have now the Elves from Lothlorien deceived and they are at the moment following my delicately slippered footsteps. Traveling great lengths has proved easy, since Lord Sauron settled magic around me. I will never grow tired, and mud shall never disrupt the beauty of all I wear.

I simply cannot wait to see the feeble humans I have been taught to loath so very much. I can mock their blunt, rounded ears, their mortality, and legendary insufferable pride.

Oh, Morgoth, this is bad. Perhaps making the Lothlorien Elves follow me wasn't such a grand idea. If I wasn't in the lead, someone else could have trampled down this blasted undergrowth. My gorgeous black silk dress with red lace cuffs and hemming is now ripped. Life is sooooo unfair. I'll just make that pale Elf, Haldir -I think his name is-walk in front of me, but first, I need to change.

Later

Ok, so making a quick change of clothes slowly turned into a three hour process, but honestly, it's not my fault. First I had to find an Elf who had a sewing kit, which is a lot harder than it sounds. Honestly, males, even Elves, have such a stubborn machismo about everything. Finally a reserved yet terribly good looking Elf named Galawe admitted to having some thread and a needle, and agreed to patch up my dress.

It will never be as good, though.

So anyway, as he was fixing the tear (twenty yards away from the other Elven soldiers, hidden behind a cluster of bushes, I might add), I got out my other, almost as pretty dress. However, as I was pulling it out of my pack, I realized I couldn't just put on a new, clean dress without first taking a bath.

Haldir was less than thrilled when I presented my dilemma, but with a bit of coaxing, and shameless flirting, he consented. I wandered a ways off until I found a charming little pool of cool water surrounded by pristine white flowers that laced the air with a lovely scent.

So maybe I could have trimmed down the time it took to clean myself, but there is this long thick hair of mine. Plus I was half hoping some unexpecting Elven soldier would find me so I could act all virtuous and maidenly; blushing my cheeks and stammering protestations as I would gracefully hide myself.

I spent a full hour entertaining such thoughts until finally my fingertips began to pucker and the cold water sunk into my very bones. I hurriedly dried myself off and slipped into the bright red, orange, and black dress. I put my jewelry back on, including the miniature palantir that commands me. I spent another hour fixing my hair, which may sound ridiculous, but it really was a mess to brush and then style. Of course then there's the perfumes and makeup to reapply, and when I finally declared myself finished, it was almost sunset.

Haldir glared at me as I returned, but with one smile I managed to make his expression soften. Morgoth, but I love being strikingly gorgeous. Galawe timidly handed back my repaired dress, and we continued on our way.

I made Haldir walk in front of me until Helm's Deep was actually in sight. Then I demanded front position, and fixed my cloak around me so the oblivious observer wouldn't be able to tell I was a woman.

Now we have arrived at the gates. Everything is falling into place.

Sixth Day

Well, maybe not. There is this incredible (and I mean _incredible_) Elf who is aiding the people of Rohan. His name is Legolas. I spent the morning convincing Aragorn and Boromir that I can be trusted, which was rather tiresome and time consuming. Every time I looked at either of the men talking sweet words to me and touching my hand or my hair, I found myself wishing it was Legolas instead. What is this peculiar feeling that sets my heart pounding like a drum? Why will my thoughts never leave the fair Elf's face and his firm, sweet voice? This is indeed an emotion I have never been prepared for.

This could be a problem.

Tonight will be the Great Battle, but I fear for Legolas's life. This was never supposed to happen. Why must I bear such difficulties? Why must I face such a prospect alone? How I wish things were different. If Legolas dies I don't know what I shall do.


	4. Four

**-Four-**

Where the Lady Runya Rinuialrilwen lied was beyond the reach of even the moon's strong rays. Nevermind the fact that during the Battle of Helm's Deep it had been pouring sheets of rain and that any moonlight would be feeble from behind the clouds. The author delicately avoided that fact entirely.

The beautiful Elf lied on her back, and with both hands stained with orc blood resting on her stomach, her large eyes fluttered open. A pain stabbed at her shoulder, and she realized there was a large wound issuing blood, her own blood, onto the stone beneath her. Runya gasped, trying to remember what had happened. Every thought and memory that raced through her mind (which admittedly, wasn't impressive) seemed veiled behind a cloud of pain. She slowly began to remember with somewhat haziness.

_Oh yes, that's what happened. _

She had been fighting skillfully by the side of Legolas, the handsome blond Elf from Mirkwood, and an orc had slashed at her shoulder from behind. She could remember the look that had passed over Legolas' face. At first it seemed like great relief and joy, but after she blinked his countenance revealed deep sorrow and undeniable fear for her safety. He carried her gently through the masses of orcs that suddenly didn't seem to notice not just one, but two vulnerable, and easily slayable beings. He gently set her down far from the fighting, and whispered romantic things to her until and orc charged at her stricken form. He then defended her valiantly. The last thing Runya remembered before her pain caused her to black out was Legolas battling the huge Uruk Hai.

"Legolas?" Runya murmured to the darkness, slowly raising her head. There was no one in sight. The maiden frowned. Where was her prince? Where had he gone to that was more important that making sure that she, Runya, his true love, was safe?

Runya leapt to her feet. Her wound seemed to have clotted and her body to have replaced all the blood she'd lost. There was still time, though, Runya reasoned, to make a huge attention- getting yet still terribly attractive and fashionable bandage around her shoulder. Artfully ripping her underskirts she then wrapped the strips around her arm. This required her to also rip off the sleeve of her dress, revealing now much of her throat and an almost risqué amount chest.

Satisfied, she hurried off in the direction of the meeting hall. For the battle not yet being won, there was a conspicuous lack of Uruk Hai. Runya dramatically flung open the doors of the hall where the whole company was gathered.

"Lady Runya, you're hurt!" Aragorn exclaimed, and rushed forward.

"Don't touch me and don't give me that hurt look of dejection," Runya snapped, her eyes roving the room, noticing that a certain blond Elf was not present.

"Where's Legolas?"

"I thought he was with you," Gandalf replied, but Runya didn't wait for more deliberation. She turned on her heel and sped out of the room. Outside it was raining torrents now, and all the Uruk Hai were suddenly back and fighting with malicious determination.

"Legolas!" Runya screamed, her dark hair dripping in her face very prettily. She cut through the crowd of warriors and searched desperately for her true love.

Legolas, meanwhile, was trying to understand what was going on. He had hid himself cleverly between a boulder and some fallen stone from the fortress in hope that Runya wouldn't find him.

He'd somehow seized his freewill for a few precious seconds, and he didn't intend on wasting them. He knew Runya would be looking for him, and once his eyes met her large red, or orange eyes depending on her mood, he would be under her control again.

Legolas shuddered at the thought, and wondered if it was possible for him to blindfold himself, avoid all contact with the woman, and manage to kill her.

He wasn't a murderer, though.

The Elf shook his head purposefully. No, he would have to get her somewhere an orc would see her and shoot without hesitation. He would fight her power over him. Of course! He would defy her control she placed over him, pretend, though, that he loved her madly, and then lead her to the goblins! It would work! It had too!

"Legolas?" a soft voice called from the distant sounds of battle, "Darling, where are you?"

Legolas felt his self-control slipping away like a tablecloth being tugged off a table. The Elf hastily set as many important thoughts of victory on this metaphorical table...

... But Runya was good.

"Oh Runya, you are safe!"

Runya turned to see Legolas hurrying towards her; arms outstretched to envelope her in an embrace.

"Why do you hide so, dearest?" she asked. Legolas' smile slipped from his face, and he hung his head.

"I am nothing but a coward, Runya. I love you so much I couldn't bear the thought of being killed without living a lifetime with you. I'm sorry I didn't find you, I'm sorry for not being brave, but I love you too much to care for the fate of the world."

"Hush, now," Runya said lovingly, stroking his wet hair with her long tapering fingers, "you and I, darling, are the world. All we need is each other. Our love has become the fate of the world"

"The thread of the world hath no greater care than our two hearts as one combined to rule land and sea." Legolas paused, wondering what on earth he had just said. Even Runya looked a bit puzzled. After a moment she smiled, and burst out into an original song, making the Lord of the Rings suddenly a musical.

"Oh Darling care for me,

our love will always be

above this dying world

of crime and hate unfurled.

Oh Darling care for us

as we sing this grand chorus.

Your eyes set mine on fire,

your heart is my desire."

And then Legolas found himself singing the next bit.

"Oh lovely sky above

how pure is our great love

Promise me, Treasure Sweet

my love you'll always greet!

Oh hold my hands in yours

as we open these new doors

to bind us as one soul

Oh Sweet, you make me whole."

In perfect harmony the two finished:

"So in this gift of life

we'll never have great strife

for you, my love, my dear

give me no need to fear.

Just love me as I am

Just hold me as I am

I'll love you evermore

beyond greed, hate, and war.

Just love me as I am

Just hold me as I am!"

Inside Legolas wanted to kill himself and any poor victim that had been in earshot of that sickeningly sweet love song.


End file.
